Cowboy Justice

by Patricia Rosemoor

  “I was wondering why Bixler’s bodyguards disappeared,” he said. “Now we know.”

  “Not hardly. At least not the driver of the Monte Carlo. I got up close and personal with him, even if it was only for a split second.”

  “You can identify him?”

  “I’ll never forget that snarl,” she said. “This morning, the guy with the fair hair talking to Ozzie Skinner—he had this weird little scar that tugged at the side of his lip. That’s what I saw in that instant I was up against the windshield.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive. As for those particular low riders—both of them were parked at the truck stop this morning.”

  “Then Bixler might not be responsible, after all.”

  “This guy could still work for him,” Reine reasoned. “He could have gotten to Skinner, maybe paid him to be his eyes and ears around the spread. It’s not like Skinner’s a loyal employee. He’s a drifter.”

  “You’re right. And snarl-boy’s being with Skinner just this morning, then showing up here, is carrying coincidence a little too far.”

  The various possibilities ran through Cash’s mind for the rest of the drive.

  The house was dark as he pulled the car into the compound. Which wasn’t surprising. His mother tended to go to bed early and rise with the sun. Besides, her rooms were in the rear quadrant of the hacienda.

  Cash took the gun with him when he climbed out of the driver’s seat. He stuck the weapon into the back of his waistband. By the time he rounded the car, Reine had already opened the passenger door.

  The full moon allowed him to see the tension still gripping her. He took care of the door and placed a hand on the side of her waist as they walked to the house. When he felt her shudder, he swung her into his arms.

  At the same time a breeze picked up and swept across the walkway, rocking the swing, which filled the quiet night with unexpected sound.

  “I love how it creaks,” she murmured against his chest.

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  Feeling things he couldn’t even name, Cash held Reine close and stroked the back of her head.

  “When I first saw it,” she said softly, “I almost thought it was the one from the ranch.”

  “You really imagined the old man would let me have a single thing that was his?”

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured, slipping her hands up his chest and around his neck. “I’m so sorry about what he did to you.” She tilted her head and met his gaze. “I never had a chance to tell you that before.”

  “Because I didn’t let you. And I’m sorry about that.”

  “You ought to be,” Reine said, giving him a halfhearted shove.

  Not that he let her go.

  His arms still around her, Cash said, “When I saw the swing at some flea market, all I could think about was you and me on it...tallting...holding hands... kissing....”

  He stared deep into her eyes, wanting in the worst way to kiss her now.

  “Is that why you bought it?”

  Rather than answering her with words, he danced her to the swing, twirled her around and fell back, taking her with him. They were both laughing as she landed on top of him. The swing bounced—and creaked—in earnest.

  Cash was instantly catapulted back in time to a day he’d never forget—the day he’d realized he didn’t just love Reine; he was in love with her. They’d been huddled together on that old swing, sharing dreams for the future. He’d thought then that no one and nothing could ever come between them.

  But something had, and only a few months later.

  For years, he’d blamed the old man for being the cause, but Cash had to admit that wasn’t fair. Losing Reine had been his own fault. He himself had gotten between them.

  He pulled her closer and laced his fingers through her hair, felt her forehead nest against his cheek and her breath whisper over his throat.

  He wanted another chance. Wanted to do it right this time.

  “I want you, Reine,” he murmured.

  She raised her head to look at him. “So you say.”

  She was so beautiful in the moonlight—or in the sunlight, or in the dark. He didn’t have to see her to experience her beauty. It was something she carried inside her, something that shone out of her with every smile—no—with every beat of her heart.

  He cupped her cheek, loving its softness. Loving her.

  Reine dipped her head and their mouths met. Lightly. Tenderly. Then with increasing tension.

  She’d never asked for much, Cash remembered. Not anything tangible, really. She’d always seemed content with exactly what she’d had. He’d put it down to her not being hungry—not for material things, that was—because of her trust fund. But he no longer thought that. Now he understood that she was content inside, with who she was, in a way that he had never been—at least, not since he’d learned the truth.

  Being content with herself had always been enough for her—with the exception of other people, of course.

  She’d needed love from the moment she’d arrived at Matlock Ranch. Ten years old and she’d lost both her parents. He’d pitied her, at first. But he was already loving her by the time she’d admitted that her biggest fear was of being abandoned again by the people she most cared about.

  And that was exactly what he’d done.

  “Reine, I really am sorry,” he murmured, kissing every inch of her face before settling on her lips once more.

  If anything had happened to her, he would have blamed himself for that, too.

  Nothing bad could ever happen to her. He’d see to it, Cash promised himself, feeling like a man suddenly obsessed.

  He wanted her. Wanted to make her his.

  Physically...

  Emotionally...

  In every way possible.

  Deepening the kiss, he felt her response, not just in her lips or in the tongue that boldly sought his, but in the subtle movements of her body. The way she settled over him. Molded herself to him.

  He knew they would still be a perfect fit.

  Cupping her buttocks, he pushed up so she could feel him, hard and heavy with desire for her.

  Reine moaned into his mouth and the sound sent him deeper to a place he couldn’t leave.

  Didn’t want to leave.

  Determined to bring her there instead, Cash tugged at her skirts, exposing her to the night. Her flesh was warm, supple, sensitive. She shuddered at his touch.

  Then she edged to the side and he felt her hand at his waist. He sucked in his breath when she found his belt buckle and released it. His zipper came next. And then she burrowed beneath the layers of clothing and found him.

  He filled her hand the way he wanted to fill her inside.

  Unable to think of anything else, he slipped his fingers beneath the elastic of her panties and around to the front of her where he found her hot and wet and hungry for him.

  He shifted, pushed the panties to the side so sharply that he heard a slight sound as they tore. Then he freed himself, found her and plunged straight inside her tight, moist warmth.

  She cried out, and he feared that he’d hurt her.

  She was too tight, as if it had been a long time since she’d had a lover. A very long time. And yet, within seconds, she pushed herself up from his chest and sank down on his entire length. Her fingers dug into his shoulders.

  Neither of them moved for a moment.

  “I’ve dreamed of this,” she murmured, her breathing seductively heavy.

  Though hooded, her eyes were open, devouring his face the way she was devouring him inside her.

  He anchored her hips and thrust higher.

  Reine cried out again, and the sound was echoed by the creak of the swing as it followed their subtle motions. As they rocked together, she threw back her head, arched her spine and slowly raised her arms.

  She hooked her hands under her hair and lifted it, as though she was trying to find a breeze to cool the back of her neck. The graceful moveme
nt lifted the fullness of her breasts, as well, and Cash was mesmerized by the sight. Then she sighed, releasing her hair, and trailed her fingers along her throat, over the material covering her breasts and belly to the place where they were intimately joined.

  She never stopped watching his face as she slid her hands, slowly upward again and under her top, to where they lingered on her breasts.

  Watching Reine touch herself drove Cash beyond patience. Waiting no longer, he began to move inside her, satisfied when she matched his rhythm. Then she slipped her hands down her belly so she could touch him. He hooked an arm around her waist and tugged until she lay forward, where he could taste the breasts to which she’d so seductively brought his attention.

  He suckled her nipples through the soft fabric, urging her to new heights of passion.

  Then he reached under her top and fingered her through the fine lace of her bra, reveling in the tensing of her nipples into buds. A cry caught in her throat, and he swiftly plunged one hand down to find yet a third bud—her erotic center.

  He’d barely touched her when he felt her tighten around him. She pulsed, the strokes intense along his length all the way to his tip. Suddenly he was lost, shuddering against her, dying the little death, welcoming it not only for him, but especially for her....

  Only afterward, cradling Reine while they were still joined, feeling the cold steel of his handgun pressed into his back, did Cash recognize the irony of that wish.

  “JASPER, WE NEED TO TALK about Gray.”

  Marlene entered his office. His sanctuary. The place he came to pray that his son would truly remain unharmed. Jasper stared at his wife through bloodshot eyes and regretted not being able to share his grief with her.

  He was sober now and wondering what terrible things he might have said to hurt her this time.

  “I know how upset you are, Marlene. So am I.”

  Jasper rose from his desk chair and went to her. As usual, he didn’t know how to be of comfort. He stood over her, his arms dangling at his sides but aching to hold her.

  “I’m gonna make Cash pay for your grief,” he promised.

  Marlene stiffened and moved away from him. “Cash had nothing to do with Gray’s kidnapping!” she insisted. “He’s been trying to help.”

  “That’s what he wants you to think, but—”

  “Stop it! I’ve had enough of your paranoia and anger and guilt. This is our son’s life we’re talking about. If we don’t give over the money...”

  A part of him feared that she was right—a part that he couldn’t afford to listen to. He believed what he had to so that he wouldn’t go out of his mind.

  “I told you we don’t have the money.”

  “Then we’ll get it.”

  “Matlock Construction is tapped out.” He shouldn’t have tried to hide this trouble from her for so long. Now she just didn’t understand. “The company’s nearly worthless.”

  “But we still have the ranch. The property along the river hasn’t lost its value.”

  “I told you before, I’m not selling!”

  She hesitated for only a second before saying, “Then I will.”

  “Not without my signature.”

  “Don’t make me force the issue, Jasper.”

  He stared. She was so calm and self-assured. He hadn’t seen her like this since Gray had been snatched. Her determined expression triggered his fear.

  “Don’t you threaten me, woman. What makes you think you can bend me to your will?”

  What did she know?

  When she said, “Divorce...I’ll divorce you if I must,” he was certain she’d found out about Selena Cullen.

  His one foolish misstep in the thirty-five years of their marriage now threatened to end it. He’d been digging around about Jimmy Cullen’s company when he’d met Selena. She’d come on to him. Later, he’d realized she’d figured he could do something to help her kid.

  So he guessed they’d used each other.

  He had no excuse except that he’d been desperate over the possibility of losing Matlock Construction at the time. And he’d been too damn weak. Marlene had been giving him flak about him and Cash. His ego had been sorely in need of bolstering and Selena had been so willing to assuage it.

  Surely one slip was not enough reason to end a solid marriage that had spanned more than three decades....

  “Where will getting rid of me get you?” he asked, trying to keep calm.

  “If we divorce, you lose your stake in the property I brought with me when we married.”

  Jasper couldn’t help himself. He laughed. “Hell if I do.”

  “Papa told me so,” Marlene said with confidence. “He had the lawyers set it up and assured me you’d agreed to it!”

  “We had an agreement, all right. If I leave you, then I have no claim on that river property. It reverts to you and any children we have. But I’m going nowhere, Marlene. And neither is that land.”

  His gut twisted inside when the realization hit her like a ton of adobe bricks. Her expression crumpled and tears burst from her eyes in a sudden torrent.

  But the thing that really got to him, was her terrified “Oh, no...Gray!”

  The wail screeched straight up his spine, piercing his poor excuse of a heart.

  HE’D ALMOST MANAGED IT. Even as he thought he couldn’t stand the tension gripping his shoulders and back a moment longer, Gray could feel the rope start to give.

  He repositioned his wrists slightly and rubbed the tether harder against the sharp edge of the stone. A few more strokes and his hands suddenly sprang free of each other.

  Sucking in a shaky breath, he brought his arms in front of him. They’d been pulled back, his hands tied together, for so much of the past days that he could hardly feel them, let alone move them properly. He’d been untied whenever they came to feed him and let him relieve himself outside—at gunpoint, of course—and each time, getting himself moving had been harder than the last.

  His blood was flowing freely now, and sensation started returning in waves of pain.

  He ripped the tape from across his mouth and nearly yowled when it seemed to take a layer of his skin and beard stubble with it.

  “Pain’s good,” he muttered, keeping the sensation in perspective. “Tells you that you’re alive.”

  Alive and free at last!

  Well... almost. He still had to deal with the ropes around his ankles.

  If only his fingers would work right. Awkward, only half alive, they fumbled with the knots, couldn’t even loosen them. It was like trying to get an old shoe off a horse’s hoof with his bare hands.

  Gray swore. Though he had no way of knowing the exact time, he’d bet the first streaks of sunrise wouldn’t be long in coming. If experience served him, one of his captors would be back to check on him any time now....

  He flexed his fingers to pump blood to their tips and tried again.

  Feeling the first knot loosen, he kept working at it until it came undone. Then the next. And the last.

  Finally, the rope fell away.

  He rotated his ankles and tried to determine if he could still feel all his toes.

  It doesn’t matter. Just stand up, dammit!

  Which he did. With difficulty. He was so stiff and sore, he felt as if he’d been pummeled.

  At least his brain wasn’t too drugged—not like before. He’d feigned indifference to the food the last time they’d been there, had acted groggy and kind of sick and had barely eaten enough to satisfy them.

  Gray eased himself to the doorway. Each step brought more life to his limbs. He fought past the pain and got himself outside into the dark.

  But no sooner did he take his first breath of freedom than he heard the soft snort of a horse echo from upstream.

  He bolted into the brush.

  There was nowhere for him to go, this being a box canyon and all. What the hell was he going to do?

  Though he was able to navigate, trying to fight his way out before all his facul
ties returned would be suicide. The bastard would stop him dead.

  He had to make a run for it.

  Using boulders and bushes as cover, he worked his way toward the mouth of the canyon, directly toward the soft clop-clop of the horse threading its way alongside the stream. He moved steadily if furtively, pausing only when mount and rider came so close he could reach out and touch them.

  His eyes accustomed to the dark from living in it, Gray could see the man’s rifle and wondered what the odds were that he could get his hands on the weapon if he surprised the bastard and pummeled him into the ground.

  Not good. Not yet.

  Therefore he remained still and fought the urge, letting horse and rider pass.

  Pumped with adrenaline, he started off again, keeping his ears sharply attuned to the movement behind him, knowing exactly when the horse stopped and the rider dismounted.

  Gray figured he had only a few minutes before his kidnapper would be on his trail—one for him to get inside, another to realize what had happened and get himself all pissed off, a third to get back outside and onto his mount.

  His body finally cooperating more fully, Gray left the brush and ran alongside the stream, straight toward the mouth of the canyon. A furious “Matlock!” echoing after him spurred him on faster.

  He ran recklessly now, knowing that, once he was outside the canyon’s grip, it would be easier to get away. There were too many directions for one man to cover.

  And lots of places to hide.

  He knew every one of them from his childhood. He and Cash had loved playing hide-and-seek in these hills, and eventually Reine had joined them in the game.

  Gray was nearly clear of the canyon when he felt more than heard the furious pounding of hooves on stone. His kidnapper didn’t seem to be looking for him at all. Maybe he figured his prey was long gone. Then he’d be hightailing it to warn his partner in crime before the law was on them.

  “Matlock, I know you’re out there!” the bastard’s declaration disavowed him of that notion.

  Gray shot out of the canyon and toward the familiar series of hills on his right. There were all kinds of places where he could hole up for a while.

  But timing was not on his side.